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“Sweetheart, we just fucked. I can sleep a few hours, I promise you.”
“Is that the way to put you to sleep?”
“Every night,” I say. “Are you up for the challenge?”
She laughs. “I think you’re trying to fuck me out of your system.”
It’s a joke, but there’s a serious undertone. “Here’s what I say to you on that, Cat. I can, you should let me, and I should let you do the same. And then when we fail, we’ll talk about what comes next. Deal?”
“Yes. Deal.”
“Good.” I pick her up and set her on the floor. “Take me to your bed, and later I’ll take you to mine.”
Chapter twenty-three
Cat
“It’s time for bed,” I say. “ To sleep.” I grab Reese’s arm, pulling him out of the bathroom off my foyer.
“I’m not going to argue,” he says. “I’m officially done for a few hours.”
I slide my palm down his arm, my fingers lacing with his, the first time I’ve ever held his hand, not the opposite, and when I look at him, the warmth in his eyes tells me he knows this, too. My cheeks warm like his eyes, which is silly, because I’ve done all kinds of naked things with this man. I cut my gaze, my throat thick with just how connected I feel with this man. How emotionally exposed I am with him. I am so very naked with this man in every possible way, and now he’s about to sleep in my bed, with me, by my side.
We cross through my living room, which is decorated in navy blue and grays, the navy of my curtains a shade darker than his gorgeous blue eyes. I guide Reese inside the doorway just off that room, and he stops inside the entrance, scanning the gray and pink décor. Lots of pink, actually, a color choice I made after I left my law career and Mitch behind, a kind of kiss off to everyone I felt had masculated me in my life. I can be more than flat and one-dimensional, and with my writing, I in fact, must embrace variety to be interesting.
Reese walks straight for my bed with the puffy pink comforter and pink pillows, his exhaustion showing in how quickly he strips off his shoes and pants before slipping under the covers. I join him, and he pulls me under his arm, onto his chest, and that’s when he murmurs, “Pink suits you, Cat,” his voice laden with grogginess, and when I glance up at him, his eyes are shut.
Warmth fills me all over again as I consider that statement, which means more to me than he realizes. Pink is poison to my father. Weakness. A tool a man would use to classify me as woman, not an equal. Reese is my first, in every way. I could love this man and that terrifies me, but it’s not a feeling you can walk away from. It’s a feeling that consumes and seduces, a drug you can’t get enough of, like this man. I can’t get enough of him.
I smile and shut my eyes, letting the earthy, rich scent of Reese consume me as my body relaxes into his, the heaviness of sleep reclaiming me.
Reese and I sleep for four hours. We wake to the buzzing of my cellphone as Liz texts me and wants to talk. “Important?” Reese asks.
“No,” I say. “Go back to sleep.”
He doesn’t argue. He’s out again in a minute, and I snuggle closer to him and do the same. We finally get out of bed at two o’clock, shower together, and dress. Reese dresses in the clothes I picked out for him, including jeans, a black T-shirt, and the blue underwear he points out, since they were my favorite, though I really couldn’t care less about the color. They’re on him. That’s what counts. I myself decide on the New Yorker look of all black, including my jeans, my knee-high boots, and a sweater, considering a cold front has officially arrived, per the weather app on my phone.
I’ve just finished flat-ironing my hair when Reese appears and leans on the counter next to me, his thick, dark hair still damp, his blue eyes bright and focused on me. “Stay with me for the rest of the trial.”
Stay with him, at his apartment, for the rest of the trial. It’s almost like living with him. My first instinct should be caution, but I don’t seem to have any left with this man. In my mind, I know that I should slow things down. We’re moving fast, but the truth is, I don’t want to slow down. “Yes,” I say. “I’d like that.”
Approval fills his expression. He’s pleased with my answer. I like this reaction. I like that I never feel like I am in a power play with this man. We are simply together in what is such unfamiliar territory for me, and I can only navigate it by acceptance. “That was easier than I expected,” he comments.
My lips quirk. “How can we fuck this out of our system if I’m not with you?”
“Indeed,” he says, his expression amused. “I do think we’ll both enjoy that process, but Cat,” his voice softens, “I’ve never met a challenge I wanted to fail, until now.”
A knot of emotion fills my chest. “I’m okay if you fail this one, too, but, of course, you should see the challenge through.”
“Of course,” he says, smiling, and he has such a devastatingly sexy smile. “Of course. That will take energy for us both. We need to power up. Do you want me to run and grab us food while you pack?”
“Oh, I have an idea. Kind of a ritual. If you like waffles and omelets, there’s a place I order from that has the best Sunday brunch. The menu is on the fridge. They deliver, and you can tell them Cat’s usual and then whatever you want.”
He leans down and kisses me. “The usual. Got it. I’ll wait on you by the coffee pot.”
He disappears, and I sigh, the spicy, sometimes borderline earthy, but always wonderful scent of him lingering in the air. I did good when I packed his cologne. He smells so good. He always smells good, and that will never get old. I stand up and pack a bag, enough for a few days, at least. Once I’m done, I set my bag in the living room, just outside the bedroom, and carry my MacBook with me.
I find him at my island kitchen, his computer in front of him, coffee beside him, his hair almost dry, a wave to the thick, untamed strands that is almost curly. “Twenty minutes for delivery,” he says. “The menu looked good.”
